


Happy Birthday, Old Man

by anastiel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Implied Polyamorous Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 05:40:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20334973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anastiel/pseuds/anastiel
Summary: As far as birthdays go, forty-five turns out to be pretty damn good.





	Happy Birthday, Old Man

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by all the Behind The Scenes videos posted from set for Misha's birthday this year. This is completely unedited and written in a feverish state from all the cockles over load last night.
> 
> As always I am a cockles tinhatt-y mess on [twitter](https://twitter.com/anastiels) if you'd like more. <3

As far as birthdays go, forty-five turns out to be pretty damn good. 

Misha spent the morning with Vicki and the kids. He slept in late as he could, Vicki curled around him, her warm hands stroking his bare skin, the aroma of her strawberry shampoo hovering in the air around them. The four of them ate breakfast together, swam in the pool later on, and basked in the sun together before it was time for Misha to fly back to Vancouver for filming. 

Clif and Jensen pick him up from the airport. Jensen hugs him once he’s in, wrapping a strong arm around his shoulder and presses his lips against Misha’s ear, “Happy Birthday, old man.”

Misha shoves at Jensen’s shoulder. “Asshole.”

Jensen cackles in glee, darting back to kiss his cheek. “Love you too.”

It’s obvious, from the moment he gets into the car, that Jensen is hiding something. He’s practically giddy, keeps staring at Misha with one of his soft secret smiles. Either he’s got something planned for this evening or Jared made a mess of his trailer as a lovely birthday prank. 

Misha finds out a less than an hour later just exactly what that smirk is about -- a trailer full of balloons and streamers, a few “old man” jokes, a homemade cake courtesy of makeup and Jensen accompanied by multiple different variations of “Happy Birthday” sang throughout the course of their night shoot.

It’s his last birthday on set, and it’s definitely one to remember. 

* * *

They wrap around four in the morning, when the sky is just starting to turn that dark effervescent sort of blue right before sunrise. There’s a bone tired ache in Misha’s bones, the weight of his traveling and the long shoot finally hitting him. Jensen stops him, right before they’re about to do the last take, grabbing his shoulder with a firm hand, looking nearly as tired as Misha feels.

“You’re still coming over right?” Jensen asks. 

“Yeah, that okay?”

Jensen huffs, darts his eyes around at the crew resetting the shot. He doesn’t kiss Misha like Misha knows he wants to, but quirks his lips up into a smile. “Wouldn’t want you anywhere else, birthday boy.”

Misha rolls his eyes. “It’s technically not my birthday anymore.”

“This whole _ week _ is going to be your birthday,” Jensen teases, cryptically.

“Oh?”

Jensen simply pats Misha’s shoulder twice and winks, jogging back over to his marker, smirking for all of two seconds before he slips into Dean and Misha is left in a whirlwind of emotion. 

They fall asleep on each other’s shoulders on the drive back to Jensen’s condo. There is a later call tomorrow, and another long day ahead of them, but Misha takes advantage of the shut-eye, wanting to be fully conscious for whatever Jensen has in store for him. Clif nudges them awake once they get back, and they stumble blearily out of the car together, hand-in-hand, too sleepy to care about onlookers.

Plus, it’s his birthday, he’s allowed to hold his boyfriend’s hand if he wants. 

Jensen, finally, kisses him in the elevator, dizzying-ly sweet and chaste compared to normal. Misha slips a hand up to cup his cheek, fingers stroking his jaw as their mouths separate. He bumps his nose into Jensen’s. 

“Thank you, for earlier.”

Jensen shrugs, blushing in that self-conscious way of his when Misha tells him something he doesn’t fully think he deserves. “Wasn’t just me.”

“I know, but thank you all the same.”

They kiss down the hallway to Jensen’s door. Jensen’s hands fumble underneath Misha’s _ La La Land _ t-shirt, hiking it up his stomach to stroke over his skin while they kiss, sleep-soft, in the glow of the soon to be risen sun. Stumbling into Jensen’s place, they blindly making their way over to Jensen’s bed. Misha keeps one hand on Jensen’s neck while they kiss, the other on Jensen’s hip for stability. Misha doesn’t wanna stop kissing him, wants Jensen’s hands on him in anyway he can have him. 

“What do you want?” Jensen gasps out. His lips glide over Misha’s neck, curving down to suck a mark into the dip of his collarbone that makeup will _ hate _ him for tomorrow. 

Misha groans against Jensen’s shoulder, the back of his knees hitting the edge of the bed. Through his lust-addled, sleep deprived brain, his thoughts spin on all the possibilities of what they have done and could do together, while Jensen hastily gets them both out of their clothes. 

“I want you to fuck me,” Misha gasps, when Jensen grips his now bare hips just so and it sparks something within Misha, that makes him yearn for the feel of Jensen inside him. 

“Yeah?” Jensen asks. He presses a messy kiss to Misha’s jaw. 

“Yeah, please?”

“Come here.” Jensen dips his head to kiss him properly, snaking an arm around Misha’s waist, flipping them around so Misha is in his lap.

Misha straddles him easily, slower than normal due to his hip, but Jensen helps him out keeping a light hand on his hip. Their mouths pull apart with a pop as Jensen leans back to look at him, gaze drifting down and up, sliding a wide palm up Misha’s bare chest. He stops to roll a thumb over Misha’s nipple, slowly working it to hardness. 

“Look pretty fucking hot for forty-five,” Jensen muses. 

“You’re the worst.” Misha chuckles, shaking his head at Jensen even as a pleased blush creeps up on his cheeks. A whimper sneaks out of his throat when Jensen leans down to to with Misha’s nipple between his teeth. 

He pulls back, smirking, victorious, and says, “I sure am.”

Misha promptly forgets every word in the English language two seconds later, when Jensen’s fingers slips between his thighs and slowly starts to work him open. 

Jensen doesn’t fuck fast, not usually. They have time for quickies every now and then in trailer or backstage at cons, but on nights like tonight, despite their mutual exhaustion, it’s evident he’s going to take his time. 

Misha leans back into the steady hand Jensen’s got on his lower back, and lets himself feel every spark of pleasure Jensen’s fingers drag out of him. 

“You look so good, love watching you fall apart like this,” Jensen murmurs, leaving a trail of kisses over Misha’s chest. He arches up to steal another kiss from Misha’s lips and slowly starts to work another finger inside him.

Misha’s entire body is trembling with need, low whines leaving his throat with every thrust of Jensen’s fingers. He’s so close just from this, and Jensen’s not even inside him yet. 

“Your hip okay enough to do this?” Jensen asks, three fingers deep inside him, easily sliding in and out, driving Misha fucking crazy. 

Misha groans right into the crook of Jensen’s neck. “Jensen, _ please.” _

“Yeah, are you good?” Jensen teases, breathless. Misha isn’t the only one this close to losing it. 

“Jen.”

“Alright,” Jensen laughs, and then kisses Misha’s cheek. “I got you, hold on.”

Jensen manhandles him how he needs, hands gentle but firm on Misha’s back and hips.Misha helps the best that he can without tweaking his hip, rising up onto his thighs and letting Jensen guide him down onto his cock. 

Jensen is thick and full inside him, but he waits until they’re flush together to move. He thrusts up slow, keeping his hands firm on Misha’s hips, guiding and moving him since Misha can’t help as much as he’d like. Misha wraps his arms around Jensen’s neck, and leans in to kiss him, and holds on. 

They kiss sloppily, wet lips brushing together while Jensen fucks him, a gentle even pace, enough to bring Misha right to the edge and moaning into Jensen’s mouth but not enough to send him over. Around them the first light of daybreak is peeking over the edge of the mountains, illuminating Jensen’s freckled cheeks in a bronze glow. 

“Please,” Misha gasps, teeth dragging over Jensen’s bottom lip as he speaks. 

It’s enough to get Jensen to wrap a hand around Misha’s cock and lazily fist it until Misha comes, all over his own stomach and Jensen’s hand. A few quick thrusts and Jensen follows him, kissing Misha through his orgasm, moaning right into his mouth. They pull apart, breathless for air and Jensen presses his forehead against Misha’s while they pant, coming down together. 

Jensen looks up, once he’s mostly regained his breath, and kisses Misha’s nose. 

“Happy birthday,” Jensen whispers, smiling all soft, eyes crinkling. “Was that okay?” He asks, reaching up to drag a hand through Misha’s hair. 

Misha looks at him, really looks, admiring the sappy smile on Jensen’s face, the frazzled mess of his hair, the shine of the rising sun on his body, and nods. He reaches up to trace a thumb over Jensen’s plump bottom lip before kissing him once more. 

“Perfect.”


End file.
